#pity my other babies

[mellowwillowy]

I love the fact that you just came back and majority of the request are all about Yulian 😭😭 bro is so popular and loved

No one here can outshine my golden son… he is our beloved son,,

Let me drop the lore (ramble to be precise) behind his first post during the Halloween event while we are at it again…

He is just my most favorite male OC and I just thought, “Hey, it’s Halloween right now so why not show everyone my favorite son?”

Dropped a short interaction of him and reader that was scared shitless because they killed someone and Yulian just, “Nah you did nothing wrong” while eyeing Kaspar’s men cleaning their shit up.

Guess what? It blew up. Why? Idk. Maybe it's just his charm (I'm just biased).

Seeing how great the engagement was with him, I wrote a fic for him about him wanting to go on a vacation with Reader but was bummed out mid-way so I wrote a smut for him first instead.

Boom. The fucking smut was bombarded with horny shits. I see nothing unique from it but maybe it's the great husband charm…? (questioning life…)

Some people saw the writing list and wanted me to finish the fic so I delivered. For some reason, people stick around for a plain ass fic… Idk maybe it was the hype. (but I'm happy I finished it because people get to learn more about him :D)

Some say they just love having a devoted husband… while I'm just standing by the sideline also agreeing with them. BECAUSE EVERYTHING YULIAN IS DOING IS WHAT I WANT HIM TO DO AAAAAAAAA. I wanna be the wifie he protecc, the wifie he loves. I wanna be cuddled by this handsome faceless bastard from my dream 8 years ago. (Btw only his hair was depicted accurately to my dream, couldn’t see his face because it was way too bright but I planned on writing something based on this years ago)

End of my rambling :D

[aroaceleovaldez]

Nico referring to his mom as "Mama" implies he most likely at least used to refer to Hades as "Papa" and i 100% headcanon he still does but mostly in the manner of him having the entire Underworld wrapped around his finger for being the baby of the family

[sunderwight]

playing Fire Emblem Engage and Alear is so stupid, I love them

"but if the fell dragon is my father, why would Lumera claim to be my mother?" Alear sweetie most people have one father and one mother. that's often how it works

[mangofanarts]

(Excluding the original eggs out of this conversation) Out of the three new eggs, Empanada gives me oldest vibes, pepito gives off middle child vibes and Sunny is the youngest

[pushing500]

Candlelight and Barghest are coping with their flu misadventures by discussing catastrophic disasters, and Kaz is just shouting across the hospital at Zonovo about weaponry.

Wookshys is making friends with Kawoo's dad, Brines, by the river (there's a bathing spot set up on the other side of the bridge from the fishing spot). I guess Brines must have missed the memo that we don't like Wookshys in this colony.

I'm grateful for the animals' help around my colony, I'm just saying I don't know if the murder-blade-dog-monster is a good candidate for carrying the baby around, is all.

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[burnsopale]

Childermass & Segundus - it sounds very well

So one day the York Society of Magicians receives a new member, and Childermass is like okay, no big deal, those guys never do anything interesting anyway.

But then, right, then the new guy and one of the old guys writes to Mr Norrell and asks if they may have the pleasure of waiting on him sometime, and Mr Norrell is like "No" but Childermass is like "Actually yes" because he's intrigued, or because the cards have told him something is about to happen, or because Mr Norrell is years overdue to go to London and revive English magic and Childermass figures this might jostle him into doing something. We don't know what exactly happened, but it seems likely that it was Childermass who made the visit possible, because the idea of Mr Norrell ever wanting visitors is impossible to accept.

So these two theoretical magicians come to Hurtfew Abbey, and Childermass is in the library waiting for the visit to end and Norrell to show up and tell him what the men wanted, but instead, when the door opens, there they are, the visitors, having been invited to see the library and what the fuck did they say to old Gilbert to make that happen?? Not that it matters, they're not gonna remember anything by the time they get home, the enchantments will see to that.

Mr Norrell introduces Childermass, and the new guy gives him a look like Childermass facinates him, but Childermass is used to that. He figures he'll just hang out until they leave.

Except the new guy, who is a dark, timid-looking little man named John Segundus, keeps looking around like he can sense the spells lighting the room, keeps looking out the window like he's not happy with the orientation of the walls, keeps blinking like the magic is making him a little dizzy. John Segundus is clearly magic sensitive. No one in the York Society is magic sensitive, Childermass knows that for a fact. This is suddenly intriguing.

So Childermass ends up keeping half an eye on Mr Segundus as he explores, until Mr Segundus notices, sensitive as he is, and their eyes meet. Childermass reads longing, need, delight and confusion on the man's face, but Childermass is without pity; by the time Mr Segundus gets home, he won't remember what he's seen. It doesn't matter; no one in the York Society ever did anything interesting anyway.

But then later, the letter from Dr Foxcastle comes, and Mr Norrell is Upset and Offended, and Childermass realises that the Revival is about to start at last. And because Mr Norrell is fearful and Childermass is pitiless, they send a lawyer with their demands.

Mr Robinson the lawyer returns to Hurtfew a little perplexed. Oh yes, they all signed, just like you said they would, every one of them ... except ... except one. Childermass is a little surprised to discover that the timid little man had a spine after all. Mr Norrell wants Mr Robinson to go back and demand the last signature, but Childermass says "Wait". And at this point, we do not know what he is thinking. Perhaps he simply thinks that they will need someone to write to London once the miracle has been done, and Mr Segundus is more likely to be amiable if he has not just been deprived of his calling. But then, Mr Honeyfoot, the other visitor, would definitely be happy to write, even though he WILL be deprived of that same calling. Perhaps, Childermass thinks that this is a strangely fateful twist, that the one member of the York Society who has an actual talent for magic is the one person who refused to give it up. Maybe he remembers a time when he himself was full of longing for magic, when he could sense it all around him but was unable to grasp it, when he too would get dizzy in Mr Norrell's library. He may not feel pity, but he can be intrigued. He convinces Mr Norrell to let Mr Segundus be.

Childermass laughs inside when John Segundus doesn't recognise him outside the cathedral, but then startles when the man almost recalls after all. He is not supposed to be able to break the enchantment. Thankfully, the moment passes, and after the magic is done, Mr Segundus turns out to be exactly as easy to manipulate as Childermass thought he would be. The polite ones are easy, especially when they are full of need and longing, and keep looking at Childermass like he has the answers they are searching for. Maybe Childermass uses a little bit of magic to persuade the man to write to London, or maybe he just smiles, and waits, and lets John Segundus come to him of his own accord.

Childermass returns to Hurtfew Abbey and says to his master "Go to London. Go now." and because Childermass knows about these things, they go.

And nine years pass in London.

But occasionally during those nine years, Childermass turns his attention to York, to see what timid little John Segundus is up to. Mostly it's not much.

Until Jonathan Strange happens. That he happens at all is rather extraordinary, but how interesting that he should come to seek Mr Norrell on the advice of John Segundus? For sure there are many people with an affinity for magic in England, but how many of them are magicians? Too few, thinks Childermass. How likely is it that two of them should meet at random? He wonders if this is another fated twist.

So he continues to keep half an eye on York, just in case Mr Segundus should discover how to actually grasp the magic that surrounds him. But when Strange returns from the war in Spain, his conversation tells Childermass that even with the learning, even with actual spells to hand, their timid little man in York cannot make the magic work.

John Segundus begins taking on pupils. Childermass keeps it from Mr Norrell. Childermass has been the instrument of many a theoretical magician's destruction, Childermass reads the hearts of men and feels no pity for them, and yet Childermass keeps John Segundus hidden from Mr Norrell. Maybe, just maybe, John Childermass is beginning to feel a little bit of pity after all. He was once the one longing to master the powers that often overpowered him. He too loves magic so much, enough to endure servitude and secrecy to be near it.

But then John Segundus wants to start a school. Well, if he is going to be that silly, then Childermass cannot help him. Mr Norrell finds out, Mr Norrell panics, and he dispatches Childermass to York to put a stop to this evil plan. Business as usual in other words.

Childermass sits quite comfortably on the steps of Starecross when John Segundus comes home. Childermass delivers his message.

"You know me, Sir," he says, completely forgetting that while he has always had half an eye on John Segundus, John Segundus has not seen Childermass for nine years. Maybe, just maybe, Childermass is a little embarrassed at his mistake. But the errand is completed, and Mr Segundus is easy to manipulate, because he is so very gentle and polite.

Childermass may or may not have noticed that he has been manipulated in turn, because he, who has no pity for any man, lets Mr Segundus know that he regrets that the school cannot be, and he is willing to do what he can to keep Mr Segundus' dream from failing entirely. Although of course, he knows that a regular school is not at all the same as a school of magic.

Childermass knows what it's like to long, but he has found, if not the answers to his questions, then at least the tools by which to hunt them down. He can do the magic.

Then Mr Strange and Mr Norrell quarrel.

And then Lady Pole tries to shoot Mr Norrel. The lady walks with one foot in Faerie and one in London, and for a while, so does Childermass. Something is not right with the lady, but Mr Norrell won't tell him what magic he employed to bring her back from the dead. She'll be sent away somewhere where Childermass will have no chance to discover the truth. Unless of course he decides where she goes. Perhaps for instance to one whom Childermass knows will feel the Faerie winds blowing about the lady, someone who will be able to carry on the search for the truth, whether he knows that he's doing Childermass' work or not. Mr Segundus is easy to manipulate.

Childermass recommends to Sir Walter that he send his wife to Starecross in Yorkshire. How fortuitous that the master of that hall has just decided to open a madhouse there. Surely the visions that gave him the idea were entirely coincidental.

Mr Norrell and Childermass quarrel.

Jonathan Strange Returns magic to England. The Raven King returns to England and rewrites his book.

Mr Norrell and Mr Strange disappear into Faerie.

Suddenly, Childermass is the most experienced magician in England. No one has read as much, has practiced as much, or knows the spells he knows.

But he thinks that there is one man who will not be far behind him in achieving similar results. And maybe Childermass wonders sometimes if it was not all meant to be this way, that it was fate, that he himself was meant to come out on the other side as a student of the two great modern magicians of the age, and that he was meant to bring with him, sheltered under his wing, a dark, timid little man with an extraordinary sensitivity to magic. The books may be gone, but through his instruments, the Raven King has made sure that the new generation of magicians are both capable of and eager to read the magic written on the sky. It will take sensitive men, full of longing, and isn't it fortuitous then, that all those years ago, in the library at Hurtfew Abbey, Childermass recognised another like himself in John Segundus, and decided to keep half an eye on him.

[catominor]

oh also heres my little guys / story spotify playlist.. its kind of disjointed as in the songs represent different character perspectives / sometimes just general story vibes tbh

[ybcpatrick]

i don't think i've had a single good day or a good night's sleep in at least two straight weeks 😁😁😁😁😁

[britneyshakespeare]

He won't leave my fucking friends alone.

[apollo-zero-one]

Man I can't believe I had the chance to go to a performing arts school up through middle school and I fuckin quit after 6 months just because I got bullied. BRO YOUR HOMEWORK WAS POETRY!! YOU HAD TO PRACTICE DANCING TO COTTON EYE JOE AS YOUR BIG UNIT TEST. GYM CLASS HAD A CIRCUS UNIT!! YOU HAD A WHOLE DAILY CLASS ON IMPROV!!! YOU FOOL!! YOU ABSOLUTE IMBICILE!! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN A YOUTUBER!!! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN ONE OF THOSE TWEENAGERS GETTING LOADED BY MAKING SHITTY YOUTUBE SHORTS IN 2008-14!! But noooOoooOOOoo little miss Noellie (who WANTED TO GO!! who worked SO HARD and sent in an application essay and did an INTERVIEW to get in!!) couldn't handle disruptive classmates or little scuffles and petty grudges and general Attitude of the other students and cried to mommy to put her back in public school. I am EATING MY HAIR over what Could Have Been. I COULD BE SOMEONE'S ANNOYING YOUTUBER!! I could be a DISGRACED DISNEY CHANNEL STAR!! I could be an America's Got Talent winner! A mild to moderately successful comedian! I could be making short films!! But no no no precious thin skinned baby me heard a few new cus words and watched a teacher get heckled and begged to give up The Dream in favor of?? Quiet math tests?? I am such a fucking quitter I quit everything the second it gets too hard I always take the out as soon as it's offered what's my fucking damage.....

[mikkouille]

BOYS PLANET 1212

From the get go, Boys Planet looked to be a disaster: postponement, changes of plans, and the legacy of Girls Planet 999′s already lukewarm reception and results, plethora of scandals, on top of the history of Mnet survivals not being quite reassuring as for what this one would be. They didn’t even have Yeo Jingoo as their MC anymore so what even was the point for me to watch, right? Well I like bad reality TV, and if the show forewent it’s predecessor’s clunky numbers, it was not merely because they cleaned themselves off the unpromised implication that ‘999′ offered, that being of parity in it’s final lineup’s nationalities- but because had they to pick one to represent the cast of 98 boys (95 by the time of announcement and 93 when the first episode released, once more, a good sign that this was going to be a Very Well Made Show), it’d have to be 1212, for Dozens of Dozens.

A bit of context for newcomers and unknowers as I’ll be mentioning the title a surprisingly low but still relevant amount of time.

From the day the fancams for the ‘Here I Am’ Signal song were uploaded, the word bounced around my brain, with cruel glee: these guys were just not good. At the same time, knowledge of how things were handled with Produce and “Not Produce we swear it’s different” shows did keep me back from immediatly dismissing about 85 boys from being of any respectable skill: if Boys Planet was anything like it’s elders, these guys likely had at most a week to learn a choreography and song, on their own, with little group rehearsals. The mere inability to judge what some steps were meant to look like given how varied the executions were across contestants said it all: they were given no teacher, likely the dance “teacher” and judge responsible for that atrocity of a dance routine showed up once, stayed an hour, and then left them to their own device (and watching episode 2, it is indeed basically what happened. When most of the rehearsal footage is just the kids by themselves teaching each other, the title of “Master” is to put into question: you’re not their masters so much as their executioner).

So I awaited the actual episodes, to see the surprises, or even just the bad dancers who were here as vocalists.

Which to be honest, was a mistake on my part, expecting vocalists was to lobotomise myself, out of the knowledge of the sad state of this industry, the one that we could nearly say this show satirises: Boys Planet isn’t a survival as much as it is a long winded performance art piece meant to criticise 4,5th gen Kpop. And so it was with equality little and great surprise that the Auditions were the same as the Fancams, only this time both eyes AND ears got to suffer the same pains.

(I ran out of embed spots- you only get 5??- so you’ll unfortunately have to click links for most of the video evidence of my claims. Very sorry about that. Prommy I didn’t intend for only the Worse- and Hui’s feast- to be visible but it IS funny).

Where are the standards of casting?

But Signal song fancams aren’t meant to be good. As stated before, they’re a bad metric of talent, or of potential even, as both song and dance are learnt in a hurry, with hardly any mentoring outside of Lim Han Byul disregarding all decency as a human being to instead have his “bullying children” segment. Moreso, a dance focused fancam does not help display the skills of vocalists, so while I did rank all of the Here I Am videos, I was waiting for the audition performances, or Star Level to truly pick out who were the trainees deserving of my attention. Still, the combination of how little candidates truly shone through their fancams, the lukewarm interest sparked by the 1mn PR videos and the trainee profiles, with their citations of way too many symbols of kpop’s downfall as for the standards of performance- not citing names as I do like the state of my life and witness protection would take all of that fun away from me- I had little hopes for what was to come, which did protect me: I was at least not disappointed in expecting nothing.

The performances aired for the first episode were highly enjoyable, in a Schadenfreude kind of way: the ones that were bad were Bad bad, to the point of hilarity: I had legitimate tears in my eyes watching some of these, and couldn’t help share them ahead of our group watching to my co-watcher friend. Things needed to be spoilt; joy to be shared.

Portrayed here, Yang Jun’s most iconic opening of Seventeen’s worst song: mathematically a masterpiece as two negatives make a positive. Also, do know that upon watching Yang Jun’s fancam back before the show started, I claimed him as one of my favourite as I thought dancing that awful must hide incredible singing talents, why else would he be there, right? I’ve had to reassess that statement, but I will not stop my support. He reached public infamy, legend status, and did so much for the show with just these few words.Similarly, team Hyogo gave us a SPLENDID rendition of MANIAC that I view with just as much affection as I do see team Sichuan’s HOT: an enemy of my enemy is my friend, desecrate songs I don’t like and we’ll get along (this is just what the songs sound like to me on regular after all, I think they did amazing).

Many such cases. The full cam footage of the first episode’s performance are overall a feast, a gathering of comically bad stages, put back to back for the heartless public to tear to shreds, only to further humiliate it’s most iconic suckers a week later, in front of Sunmi no less… There is nothing crueler when it comes to reality TV than an Mnet survival.

While a few stages did still look significantly better, and the second week packed overall better performances, the truth is still that the vast majority was mediocre at best, funnily enough, probably would rank 12/20 in my french fashion of rating: not awful enough to be failed but just toeing that line.

And that overall does make sense: why would a company send their best most promising trainees to a shitshow where they can hardly monitor their progress anymore, all for them to get eliminated after two weeks of airtime, but months of recording, alongside half the contestant, and after a combined screen time of about 10 seconds. The investment isn’t good when the winners are already pre-decided, might as well send your newbies, your bottom of the class lineup, avoiding the silent blacklisting of a large TV channel without wasting the time of your talents. As for the viewer, it only makes the experience more entertaining: the mind’s much more rested when all the decent guys are relatively safe for a few episodes when the network first has to weed out the ones who are simply way too incompetent to even get a single pity vote. Instead, you get to laugh at poor youngsters that still probably are doing much better than you would, only they have a roomful of witnesses and large audience to witness them.  I cannot truly cast the stone of ‘this is cruel and uncivilised’ when I myself go back to the Canton China’s team rendition of God’s Menu daily, for reasons that are anything but amazement.

Something that was evident throughout all the stages, including the good and passable ones though, was how little singers were present on set. The show even makes a point of highlighting it: if there is a handful of good performers and dancers, the singing is truly subpar. Only, for the jury to point it out is a bit hypocritical. Comparing the performances and the gradings assigned to each participant show that while the jury- and mainly professional hater Lim Han Byul- lament the lack of good voices, they do not support what little good ones they do have on their hand. Abysmal singers who can dance consistently get better star rankings than good singers with lacklustre dancing. The message is clear: we shall address the issue in words, but only participate in it with our actions.

For Choi Yujin to get four stars with that mid at most line being the only piece of singing we heard from him, while Park Gunwook got assigned three for not being heard singing enough was already quite frustrating. But Gunwook isn’t really a singer either, so the real rage was to see Kim Taerae also get only three stars AFTER the assessment that the show desperately needed SINGERS. If Yujin deserved four stars, then so did Taerae, because his dancing is nowhere near just middle-ground, he’s good enough to blend in the ensemble while carrying a vocal position. But the show does not care for this: they want flashy performers, no matter what their empty claim. But then, it seems Choi Yujin was actually a victim more than an undeserved win, as the show’s true focus seems to now do MY job and use every opportunity to belittle him and call him undeserving of his rank, as if they weren’t the ones putting him there in the first place.

But in all fairness, bad singing makes sense when a good portion of your candidates aren’t done going through puberty: the amount of 2006 to 2008ers present in the lineup should be an indicator as to why we hear so many unstable shaky creaky breaky voices: these are teenagers who should be in school, not in Public Shamings - The Show, no budget edition (because we spent all of it making a Roblox dupe, something the public for certain asked for).

Speaking of things no one asked for: Pentagon Hui’s presence. As enjoyable as it is to get an actual serve in the midst of… Whatever it is others are doing, there’s nothing pleasant about seeing him sit in the middle of all those teens, right out of the army and all out of tears to cry. The misery of every episode 1 reaction shot on him, free this man. At every round, we will have to pretend to carefully examine who exactly is most skilled, as if there wasn’t a guy among the participants who should have been mentoring them, not playing with them. Unlike CLC’s Yujin on Girls Planet, his situation is also nowhere near as dire: while Pentagon hasn’t been in its Shine heydays for a moment, they do not seem to be on the brink of disbandment the way CLC was when Girl’s Planet aired: Hui himself was speaking of comeback plans months before the start of Boys Planet. It seems CUBE ENT just wants to torture a poor guy who only probably wants to go back to his writing studio with his actual group rather than being under the threat of having to spend god knows how long Kep1er’s babybrother group will be active for. At least he provides respite whenever on stage I suppose, but I so desperately want him to get the Produce Camp Lelush treatment: a full time exposure then freedom on the last episode. Make it worth it at least!

Have a little palate cleanser before we carry on.

Sabotage

I love to talk badly about corporations too much to blame only the trainees for their bad performances though. Particularly, Mnet isn’t truly known for either fairness or transparency, and so a lot of what the show displays doesn’t reflect individual potential. When that many stages are bad, the fault is on the network, not only through their casting, but their sabotage. That’s right: here come the delicious speculations of foul play.

Just like fancams of a performance learnt in a few days- with foreign trainees being given one day less to train, by the way- aren’t really indicative of who is talented, the Star Level stages are to be put into question: the showrunners claim that the songs were picked by the teams, but it takes extreme gullibility to take their word when watching some of the stage choices: either those trainees are stupid on top of untalented, or someone isn’t telling the truth.

When I mentioned Canton China’s performance earlier, they are one of the most questionable matchup: why would foreigners who aren’t fluent pick a song as rap-heavy and dense in pronunciation as God’s Menu? Would they really have expected anything but this?

It’s still funny though sorry Canton China. KKAMA HH HH KKAJI.

And how come there just so happens to be such a high percentage of songs that members of the jury worked on, even with their extensive workography, when half the songs are their work, it becomes a tad suspicious, there isn’t just one writer and one choreographer in this industry. The numbers don’t add up. And as iconic as Shine is as a song, it’s still eyebrow-raise worthy to have Just the song to activate the competition’s most famous “trainee”’s backstory and tears. The songs are just too suspicious: fitting neither the skills or style or announced preferences of the participants. In a round where they have to best portray themselves, it’s hard to believe that so many contestants would pick so far out of their comfort zone, just to appeal to one member of the jury. Not to mention the coincidental stage repeats: the two tall and handsome but inexperienced guys just happened to both decide to do My House, in matching outfits too? At least try to be subtle about your script.

And all of those network picks only serve to push forward their favourites, and mostly, the premises of narratives they want to build. As the writers aren’t too original and love to rehash the same storylines, they are pretty easy to spot: the talented guy who did not charm the jury at first but will then sweep them off their feet with one day of practice, great but mean guy who’ll likely be lost by his “oversized ego”, the one who did So Good at first and then never lived up to it… It is much easier to make entertaining situations yourself than to expect them from a crowd of kids who likely wouldn’t start fights with how little time they have to do anything but practice and sleep. Hence, manufactured rivalries- between the Korean and Foreign group notably, something so out of pocket when within those you can find people who belong to one same debuted group split into blue and pink team, and definitely hilarious whenever they prompt a foreigner to say anything negative on the Korean team, taking it to their nationality as root of the issue, when some members of the Global team are themselves part of the Korean diaspora. The choice of Nationalistic War as a plotline is certainly a choice, but only works way less when instead of GP999’s three teams of more or less strictly region locked participants you have one country against the whole rest of the world. But I’d rather pretend this entire decision does not exist, there’s just something uncomfortable about the show trying to become ‘war on Kpop: these foreigners are trying to steal our job’. As if Mnet was even going to pick more than 3 Global trainees for their line up.

Then come my most detested, as I am a hater, the ones who take the limelight when being hardly better than MY picks who are objectively better naturally as I am the voice of truth. I mentioned Choi Yujin, but there are other worsties in the show, some who may get the same sad treatment as their fellow (of being shamed for not living up to expectation built out of nothing), I’m thinking most notably KuanJui from team Taipei whom the show will not manage to convince me is good as an Idol, no matter how much they repeat it: his traditional dancing is very good, but he neither could dance or sing Tiger Inside in a way that I could stomach, and it was neither a matter of awkward lack of confidence nor an issue of assignment that didn’t match his tastes. He may have done better indeed on an elegant song, but when it’s likely the final group will be performing Hip-Hop leaning choreographies, what use is there in lying that he can carry them out? Why are we pretending that he did not just disrespect Ten’s legacy etc etc? As he also carries the fatal flaw of not being a Korean trainee, which, to the Mnet writers’ eyes might as well mean you attempted murder on their families, I am expecting him to be this season’s Cai Bing, suddenly villainized by the community whenever the show needs some drama that doesn’t involve collateral damage for their plan of debutees to be.

Is there no main Slayer?

And how are they even going to make that lineup, you could ask, if everyone is mediocre, if there’s no talent but the 30 years old hag who already has a group at home and enlistment under his belt?

Thankfully, in the mass of Nothing, there still are a few attention grabbers, some I have already shouted out before, some that I keep for this more entertaining section of “lets see some good food”.

Well, good food…

I first want to give a shout-out to my little pity boys, the ones so clearly set up and so thoroughly mocked that you can only feel bad for them. I’d want them in the group just to spite the network. The Houses, as I’ve already mentioned before, have this incredible charm to them (they’re good looking) that makes it hard not to root for their progress (and they’re tall too) especially when the show bestows a montage of them working so hard day and night to escape their reputation (pretty boys should never be sad). Red House Jung Min Gyu is probably the funnier of the two, his awkwardness is in how brazenly he tries, while Blue House Bak Do Ha is the more tragic one, the one desperate with tears, the one who has to carry the burden of being Labelmate with Hui. Neither of them are good, but both seem untrained as hell, and the odds aren’t in their favour when the show cannot acknowledge that even with years of vocal lessons they’d hardly be able to sing Here I Am given their natural pitch. There’s something wholesome in the trauma-bound solidarity between the two as well, my favourite manufactured narrative is the show’s insistence on sliding a reaction shot of one House whenever the other does badly. They are brothers in martyrdom.

The one thing the jury did get right is how much we did need to see them perform together. Power duo.

Another Martyr would be Lee Da Eul: as soon as the fancams dropped he was already the most mocked online, for his sloppy and odd dancing. Just like the Houses, his voice is unfit for the Soprano-ranged songs, and just like them, he has that weirdly endearing thing to him. Unlike the houses though, his bad performance secured him a spot for at least a round, if votes remain the main factor of survival: the hate-views of his fancam alone landed him in the top 9 for two episodes in a row. He’s everyone’s favourite underskilled little guy. And perhaps mine as well. Daeul sweep etc… I hope he makes it to the finale.

He’s hypnotic to be perfectly honest, I’m obsessed with him he’s so woobly he’s so real.

Then come My Dozens. The ones that may not be deserving of the support compared to others, but that I still will support, because it’s my ranking, I get to choose the pretty boys who get in on face alone. Naturally, as the rest of the viewers, I devote myself to the Chiu SweetBlood- sorry I mean Jiwoong Sweep. Is he here and winning just because Bro is Beautiful? Maybe. But if the mass is not good might as well have pretty faces, and the thing is that he’s not completely void of talent, to my surprise and also disappointment, as there was something much funnier in supporting a guy who can legit do nothing but serve face and cleavage. From the get go I could never tell if I thought he was a good dancer or not. His fancam was… Not very good. His footage from his previous group endeavours were not too remarkable but not too bad. But Mirotic seemed to be just the style that best showcased his ability, and he can sustain vocals on top of the dancing, although not the most stunning ones. Still, that’s more than a Dozen needs to be doing, so shoutout to his pretty eyes and bosoms. Was he my favourite of his team? Not even. Did he still kind of Give? To me, certainly. But then I’m not objective towards the one truly handsome guy of the whole competition. Any lacks of his that would get anyone else thwarted from my list of faves is filled out by his mere blinks.

Good dancers who cannot hold a note were aplenty, and if I’m sensitive to guys who can shake it and willing to close my ears for them, I could not just adopt all of them. Some that did still vow me would be, and we’ll do quick name drops, Haruto, whose iconic voice break- cut off at broadcast because Mnet and I sometimes agree on who deserve the Ws- and iconic-er pre-show online presence carry him into my heart at all times, Wang Zi Hao who danced way better in his rehearsal than final stage but did not sound pleasant in either, Cha Woongki, yes he sounds awful no I don’t care he can shake it and threw a fish, and Na Kamden who hasn’t actually shown any singing so who knows maybe he’s good. All of these make it far in my excel sheet only because they aren’t Good dancers but Great ones. In this economy, it’s equivalent to having a minimum of singing skills.

As for singers, they get an automatic pass for me. We have to support what little voices we get.

The first Good singer I heard watching the performances was Jay, Kamden’s singing teammate, and he’s one I have to support double as it seems the public refuses to acknowledge him due to his cringeboy swag. Or perhaps he did something I’m not aware of, but his High School Musical type vocals deserve the acknowledgement: there’s not a lot of other candidates who can do what he does. So what if he’s cringe? What if he has the aura of a guy who posts tiktok thirst traps? What if he’s American? We have a shortage of singers. We need him now more than ever.

I mentioned Kim Taerae earlier, he alongside Lee Hwanhee are the two trainees who give the more Classic Kpop vocals. The former got to have a segment on how ‘he sounds so good but dances so bad’ and the latter is nowhere to be found on the screen. A damn shame, he sounds amazing, but what can we do against the editor’s favouritism except watch the full cam performance and sigh in hopes for a change to come when more group performances happen and they cannot skip him anymore.

Yoo Seungeon mainly, but also Krystian (with a very unique vocal colour, whose uncle possessed him, idk but i fuck with it), Park Gwanyoung (who sounded strained but way tolerable considering) and Winnie (who was mad good given the moves he was doing) aren’t just as good but still have nice vocal potential, and can probably do more, with time or more fitting songs.

Then come the ones that actually caught real attention, to different levels.

My favourite flop with no hopes of surviving, Kim Minhyuk, teammate of Park Gwanyoung, is being snubbed of screen time, of votes, of stars, of everything. Most tortured babygirl. Every day I dump a vote to the trash by giving it to him as if he could make it. First elimination and I know I’ll have to bid him goodbye, but our time together was lovely regardless. I made my peace, I don’t love him to the point of outrage, just to the point of disappointment. 

Lee Ye Dam gave mediocre vocals on his live, but his practice sounded much better, so I do believe he can sing. And mainly, boy he can dance, and he can Slay. Moves AND attitude, it’s maddening given how his PR video had me on the fence about supporting him (made him drop all the way from my top ranks after the fancam, to the Thin Ice section). For my own public image, let’s all look into a spinning spiral and erase it from our minds, and focus on his gambler performance.

Sung Han Bin has me very confused. He’s quite obviously Mnet’s favourite little guy, and he’s surely talented, but he’s got that crazy trait of becoming way less interesting as soon as he’s on stage. His rehearsals and freestyles are way more charming, they film him having a silly little fake competition and suddenly I get the hype, then he does his assignments and I am bored. But well, would I be mad if he won? Absolutely not, he’s solid, he’s safe. He’s just a mystery: how does a guy who look so confident about performing also loses his charisma when he does? A science subject. Perhaps that’ll bewitch me.

Funnily, because they’re besties, the show so badly wants a Sung Hanbin vs Seok Matthew rivalry. They do play it up a tiny bit, but never fully, instead, you get to see Canada boy rave over how good his friend is over and over again, while himself being honestly quite as good. It seems that a lot of people want them to debut together, friendship wins, but also talent wins, because Matthew is a great performer, good dancer, pleasant singer though with room to improve, and seems comfortable and happy on stage, so that’s just nice. Good vibes. Go Canada.

Next one will have people ask, wait, didn’t you have a section for good dancers who can’t sing? And yes, I did, but the thing is to me, Park Gunwook is more than a great dancer. He’s just way too nice to watch dance. Makes me insane levels of “I fuck with this guy’s dance”. So he’s allowed to not sing the best you see. I think he can learn. I think he can be dangerous if he does. Like give him vocals and it’s the end for everyone else because damn. He dance good. That’s it. Sometimes I just need a lil dance guy.

The one sin Jiwoong committed in entrancing everyone with his vampire spell was to take away attention from Jeong Ichan in his team. That guy is kind of crazy if you ask me, and gets no attention for it. Sad! Watch him shake it, hear him sing, he’s quite obviously talented in both aspects. I want him in the final lineup so desperately, but it seems the judges disagree with me. Well, they never had good taste anyway. All he can do now is steal Yoon Jongwoo’s strategy of gaybaiting through Jiwoong to secure his fujogirl’s votes through ship-sweep. I’m begging him to get on this grind. I need him to survive.

For a while I didn’t understand the Keita hype. Not that I thought he was bad: like Hanbin I just thought he was skilled but not that bewitching, at least from his fancam he seemed really skilled, but I just didn’t feel much. I can understand better with his appearances on the two episodes so far. His Conduct Zero stage was fun, and he also did well with Here I Am both in evaluation and in Good Conduct, so go short king! You caught me now, I’m adding you to the ones I look after now. If we have to have a kpop rapper on the team, he can be it.

Kum Junhyeon. That’s about it. I thought he was great in his fancam, I thought he was awesome in Nunu Nana too, like oh he can sing alright? Seems like a fun guy too, let’s twirl our hair and pat ourselves on the back for always knowing he was to look out for, I always knew but now I got the other watchers on my side too. Very satisfying.

Unlike the total disregard for Kim Minseoung. It was to the point I wondered if he was just a known public enemy, he was my favourite from the fancams, and by favourite I mean that Youtube started putting it in my automatic playlists because of how much I watched it-something about the clarity of his moves, so satisfying, so clean, so exactly what I look for, so I pledged allegiance to him forever, and I’m thankful that he did not embarrass me. He’s great. And he’s in the bottom twenty percent with a full four star ranking. Very frustrating. Gives me a superiority complex too: I know what’s up. No one else does. They only like him because he does a flip…

In Conclusion...

The show exactly meets its expectations: bad taste and bad faith from the judges. The public doesn’t know shit. We are short of talent in this industry nowadays. I’m the biggest martyr. Chiu sweep. Ten thousand likes and I drop my list of most hated candidates just to feel something.

[sscarletvenus]

i do not pity israel. never have, and never will.

each night that gaza experiences is deadlier than the last, as idf soldiers record propaganda tiktoks, make rave parties and grwms and fit checks, gloat over having food and water, and film themselves deriving sadistic pleasure from torturing their hostages and victims and desecrating the dead.

Palestinians have to display their martyred before the camera for you to believe the atrocities that the zionist entity has subjected them to. they cannot even mourn in private. the apartheid entity murders them in cold blood, and you deliver the killing blow by doubting them.

babies whose families have been killed will never get to know their own name.

i can't reshare a tenth of the videos and photos that cross my timeline. i have seen more dead children in the past month than i have known death my entire life.

israeli settlers burn olive trees, bomb bakeries and fishing boats, shower white phosphorus and earthquake bombs on the captive civilians of gaza. you already know about the disastrous effects of white phosphorus, but earthquake bombs were last used during ww2 to wipe out entire cities.

how holy is the land that seeks to be built over the mass graves of thousands of children? is it holier than the miracle of a child being born in this hypocritical world?

all 11 universities in gaza have been bombed. academics should be agitating right now, especially those who call themselves "decolonial thinkers." destruction of universities is a sinisterly deliberate act to sabotage the Palestinians who will survive this great catastrophe.

the act of cleansing your hands before prayer is extremely important to muslims. no part of us can remotely comprehend the grief of the mother who refused to wash her hands from the blood of her children after losing them in a zionist airstrike over gaza. "I swear I won't wash them, I won't wash my hands, how else am I supposed to sleep near my kids."

it is only both moral and right when one side defends itself. the other side are the price of war, no better than insects and cattle and sheep left to die within the four walls of the slaughterhouse.

this situation should not be up for debate, but let me finish with one final thing : do your research about Palestine. HOWEVER. you do not need a degree in middle east studies to object to an ongoing genocide. if someone outwits you in a debate about historical details and every nuance of a subject, you were and will remain entirely correct in objecting to a genocide.

may those martyred rest in peace and be reunited again with their loved ones in heaven's eternal vastness.

DO NOT STOP TALKING ABOUT PALESTINE.

glory to Palestinian resistance. from the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.

[beardedhandstoadshark]

Noo don’t delete your art blog! Art is fun when you draw for yourself and just sharing your creativity

Yeaaaa but it hasn't felt like drawing for myself for a while now, y'know? And what's the point of sharing something if no one wants it. Might as well keep everything to myself then. It's why it's primarily niche videogames and oc stuff too, that way I can at least tell myself it makes sense why no one looks at it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[teriiblog]

In other news. I want to yumeship w kabu so bad. I haven't felt this way since finn yuurivoice which I find funny since Kabu and Finn have little to no similarities at all 😭 My typeless pansexual ass ig

[venranae]

Love living with a family that loves my brother despite him being a piece of shit and doesn't give a fuck about me its like every single one of them is a boymom

[inkedells]

pairing: old!logan x f!reader

Logan is sick and tired of you treating him like he's fragile. He'll ignore his relentless pain to show you what it's like to be taken apart, rough and slow, then fast and agonizing.

wc: 3.5k of pure smut

warnings: heavy smut, lap sitting, fingering, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), dirty talk, facials, p in v, ruined orgasms, snowballing, kind of angsty, the claws come out, logan is angry with you, kinda toxic, definitely mean, but still kind of sweet, pwp basically, blood, but it's not bloodplay, it's just logan not caring if he's hurt, if i missed any let me know.

Logan comes home and throws himself back on that torn-up leather sofa, thumb flicking his lighter while the other holds a cigar. It’s less of a distraction from the ache in his bones, and more of a device to push you away. Because if you think he’s tired or angry or hurting, you won’t ask him to fuck you.

It’s not like he doesn’t want you. Of course he does. It’s the sympathy in your eyes when he gets tired from just a couple of minutes of thrusting that he hates. The whispered, “It’s okay. baby, I can ride you.” The gentle touches across his body and his neck and his face and his beard. It all reeks of pity. And if you were to sit him down one day and ask him why he hates being taken care of, he wouldn’t have an answer. He would push the voice in his head down into the void that all the strength he had left fell in, the voice shrinking until it’s nothing as it screams, because I’ve never been taken care of, and I would’ve loved it back when being taken care of wasn’t my only choice.

But it’s fine. You wouldn’t ever ask him that question because he knows for a fact that you don’t know. If you did, you wouldn’t be climbing onto his lap quietly, hands rubbing his sides as you press kisses to his neck.

“I missed you, Logan,” You whisper. Your hips aren’t moving; He knows he sat here like this to avoid fucking you, but he almost wishes you were seeking exactly that. Sex, as embarrassing as it would be for him, is better than you holding him because of your sick love for him. He doesn’t think you love him in the way lovers do. It’s the kind of love meant for sick puppies, or the lonely old woman sitting on the bus with all her belongings in plastic bags.

He turns his head to take a drag of his cigar. Silence.

You hold his face, forcing him to look at you as you kiss him. Slow, chaste, no tongue. He feels scrutinized by your touches, and something nervous seats itself deep in his belly.

“How was your day?” You ask, your gaze snapping between his eyes.

He closes them. “I’m tired,” Logan says flatly.

“I know. It’s okay.”

There it is again. Pity.

He scoffs. It’s quiet. Barely there. He didn’t mean to. He watches your face fall the smallest bit. A year ago, he wouldn’t have noticed, and if he would’ve, he would blurt out an apology. Now, he does notice, but he secretly wants to watch it fall even further if it means you’ll realize how much you’ve been hurting him.

You swallow, your thumb rubbing his cheekbone. “I found an American poetry anthology in the basement today. 20th Century. My favorite poem was in it.”

He mumbles, “In a Station of the Metro. T.S. Elliot.” Remembering the poem you told him about months ago sounds too much like sorry. He wishes he’d pretended to forget.

“Elliot Pound,” You correct. Your smile tells him he’s forgiven for an apology he never offered. “If you can recite it I’ll be impressed.”

“I’m not reciting a goddamn poem.” He sounds sarcastic, and it relieves you, but then you kiss him and he’s wound tight again.

You sigh as you pull back. “What’s bothering you, baby?”

“Nothing’s bothering—”

“What’s bothering you?” You interject.

He shakes his head, clenching his jaw. He makes the decision to sacrifice his dignity for the sake of stopping this conversation. You never could resist an orgasm, especially one caused by him. “Enough of that.”

“What?”

But he’s putting out his cigar and lifting you off his lap with a suppressed grunt, then pushing you down on the couch.

“Logan,” You protest.

He continues undoing the drawstring of your pajamas.

You sit up straight, swatting his hand away. “Stop.”

He withdraws immediately, breathing hard through his nose as he looks down at the floor. He was wrong, before, about you not knowing. You definitely know, because you don’t place a loving hand on his thigh and you don’t kiss his shoulder. He’s grateful.

Instead, you observe his profile, then the quiet tremor in his hand. The impossible stillness of the rest of him. He tends to do that when his nerves are on fire. Thinks being a statue is what people who aren’t in chronic pain do.

“Don’t do that,” He mumbles, feeling your eyes on him. “I don’t need you feeling sorry, or whatever—whatever the fuck else goes through your head when you’re around me.”

You say nothing. That’s the most he’s said about his feelings in a while. He knows it, so he forces himself to say nothing, too. It doesn’t last long.

“I’m not dying.” His voice cracks a little at the end and he fights the urge to squeeze his eyes shut.

“I know.” The words come out in a tumble, as if you’re rushing to participate in his lie.

“Then stop looking at me like I’m dying.”

“Okay.” Tears prickle your eyes but you blink them away.

“Okay,” He repeats.

You take a deep breath. “But it’s okay to be cared for, Logan.”

He laughs incredulously, and suddenly his volume is rising and his voice is firm. “Would you just—Would you just quit being my fuckin’ mommy? Would you?”

He only lets your silence marinate for a second before he rushes in to kiss you, ignoring the cramps in his muscles as he tugs your neck forward roughly. You squeak against his mouth, fighting his impossible grip on you, but you give up with a shaky exhale through your nose when your efforts prove useless.

“I can take care of you, too,” He grits out. It would sound sweet if it weren’t for the frustration in his tone. He pushes you onto the couch the same way he did moments before as he opens your legs by your knees and settles between them. He sucks a dark mark onto your neck, his fingers digging bruises in your ribs.

“I know you can,” You reassure him. You can see where this is going. “And I love when you do.” You gasp when he pulls your shirt up over the curve of your breasts.

“No. You don’t.” He pinches one of your nipples and sucks the other into his mouth for a brief second. “It’s okay. I’ll show you so you don’t forget again. You won’t want to get ruined any other way.”

“Logan,” You sigh.

He hums against the soft skin just underneath your breast as his hands ravage your body. He begins to unsheathe the adamantium claws in one of his hands so he can rip your top open. It’s slow and excruciating, so he closes his eyes, but the pain is over too soon and his suspicions are confirmed when he opens his eyes to see them stuck halfway.

You don’t expect him to lean back and individually tug each blade free. There’s blood, and now it’s dripping onto your belly, and he mumbles something that sounds like an apology as he wipes the dots of red away with his thumb.

But the hazel in his eyes is alive again. You hope it’s you that did that. Hope it’s not the pain or the sight of his own blood. You want to ask him, just to make sure. You don’t like hurting, right? You just really like me—

He slices through your shirt, careful not to graze your skin, and you try to ignore the fact that he’s never that cautious with himself, but you can’t.

“Logan, you’re bleeding.” Your voice is unstable.

“It’ll heal,” He says quickly, passively. He wipes his burning palm on his wifebeater.

“But that takes a long time now.”

He meets your eyes, his movements frozen. He’s angry and you’re not stupid. You’re pitying him again. He needs you to stop fucking pitying him. When he speaks, his voice is deep and rough and slow, and you would be scared if he wasn’t your Logan. “Are you done?”

You don’t know what to say, so you just close your eyes and nod. You hear his claws retract faster than when they came out, and almost simultaneously, he’s shoving that same hand under your waistband as two of his calloused fingers push themselves into your cunt.

You arch toward him involuntarily, a ragged moan falling from your lips as he tugs your pajamas off your legs and spits on your pussy to ease the slide of his fingers.

Each groan he pulls from your throat is a step toward dispelling the doubt from your body. Doubt of his capabilities, of his strength, of his devotion to you.

“Beg me to fuck you,” He demands, fingering you roughly.

Your mind is cloudy at this point, from sadness or arousal or both, but you give him what he wants. “Fuck me,” You whisper, your eyelids about to flutter shut as you shed a tear.

But then you catch Logan smiling.

He grabs your jaw with his free hand, and you look at him immediately. “You’re gonna let me use it, right? Get myself off?” You lazily trace his features with your gaze—His nose, his wrinkles, his beard—because you know if it were your fingers instead he’d mistake it for tenderness and get mad again.

You nod, but it’s weak with how hazy everything is.

“Good girl.” 

“Please,” You sigh, “I need you inside of me. I need to—I need it.”

“I know. I know what you’re feeling before you feel it. I know you’ve been missing when I used to ruin you.” He lets the pad of his thumb draw quick circles on your clit. “What? Thought I couldn’t hear you playing with yourself in the shower? If I can hear your heartbeat when I walk through the door, what makes you think I wouldn’t have heard you whining my name?”

“Logan,” You sigh, your hips lifting off the couch, coaxing his fingers deeper for as long as possible before he’s shoving you back down with the heel of his palm.

“I’m gonna play with you now. I’ll fuck you after, don’t worry your pretty head about it.”

“What do you mean?” You breathe, fighting to keep your eyes open as he finds your g-spot.

He grins dirtily, in a way that makes your head spin and your thighs clench around his hand. You’re barely processing his words as he bends down to mumble in your ear, “Right when you’re about to make a mess on my fingers, I’m gonna stop. Then I’m gonna go down on you. And I’m gonna lick your pretty pussy, maybe even fuck you with my tongue if you’re good. And guess what? Guess what I’m gonna do when you’re this close?”

“You’re gonna stop,” You whine.

“I’m gonna stop,” He nods, and it’s mocking, but it’s gentle, and he’s fucking killing you with the way he’s talking right now. “But I’m not mean. I’ll give you a break. You can calm down when my dick is in your mouth, okay?”

“Okay,” You breathe, your hips unabashedly grinding on his fingers. But you want to reassure him he is mean, and you especially want to tell him how much you love it. “Logan, I’m gonna—”

He withdraws his fingers from you so fast it almost burns. You clench around nothing, your lower half spasming as your orgasm barely approaches before falling away again. Only a hint of pleasure is able to make it through the cracks, and you cling onto it, hoping if you focus hard enough, the wave will come back. It doesn’t. You should regret warning Logan that you were about to finish, but all you feel is comfort now that he’s finally proud of you again.

Another tear streams down the side of your face, landing in your hair. Logan’s watching you as he pets your thigh, his lips parted when he leans down over you. He kisses your wet cheek softly, his beard rough on your skin. It’s unlike him to offer you affection this gracefully during sex. It’s always shaky limbs and suppressed groans and dirty kisses. Both of you know it. 

He moves down your body, until his face is hovering over your cunt. He doesn’t have his reading glasses on, so he has to pull his head back and squint as he spreads your folds with his thumbs, studying what you look like. He licks a stripe over you. A second, longer one, before he zeroes in on your clit. You can do nothing except lay there and take it as your hips twitch from overstimulation under his firm hands.

“Oh my god,” You whisper, your fingers twisting in his hair. “F-Fuck.”

He moans at that, pressed right up against you, the sound deep and delicious and vibrating. “Feel good?” He asks teasingly with a nip to your inner thigh.

“What do—What the fuck do you think?”

He breathes a laugh. It’s short and airy, not frustrated like before, and a warmth ignites itself in the back of your mind. It’s overpowering even the feeling of his mouth licking and sucking your most sensitive area; It’s the relief that he’s still hiding the Logan you fell in love with somewhere in there.

You wind your fingers in his hair and scratch his scalp. You try to do it lovingly, although it comes across as sexual and Logan’s breath hitches in pleasure against your pussy instead. So as you suppress a gasp from the pure skill of his tongue, you show your affection differently—you hold the wounded hand he has resting face-up beside your hip. The cuts embedded there are easy to avoid as your thumb rubs the lines of his palm, because even though you can’t see his hand, the puffiness surrounding each slash on his skin are your cues.

He doesn’t move his hand away, but his tongue falters for a fraction of a second before slowing down.

The kind of love you’re pressing into Logan’s skin with each gentle stroke is unrecognizable to him. It’s not the pitiful love he’s so used to. He thinks it might be the opposite. Admiration. Reverence.

“I’m so empty,” You whisper, bringing your hands to grope Logan’s biceps. They’re sweaty and hard and flexing under your touch, and you wonder if he would let you ride them one day.

When your climax starts to creep up on you, it’s thanks to the image of Logan forcing you to lick your arousal clean off his bicep. Indulgently swirling your tongue along his pronounced veins, savoring the taste of his sweat mixed with yourself. He’d probably say somthing like, fuckin’ filthy. Getting yourself off on my arm. Who does that? Are you that obsessed with me?

Logan feels you squeezing his tongue, harder than all the other times before, so he withdraws at the last moment, ruining your orgasm once again.

 You convulse silently, your breath coming out stuttered with your twitching jaw. As if he can read your mind, he unbuckles his belt and removes his pants and boxers. But he doesn’t strip himself of his wifebeater, stained with blood.

It’s the hottest thing in the world.

You blink, and suddenly Logan is hovering above you with his cock over your face. He rubs his leaking tip on your cheeks first, then your lips, and when you open your mouth to take him, he moves his cock away and nudges your jaw shut with his free hand, shaking his head.

“Not yet.”

A whine lodges itself in your throat as Logan spreads his pre-come over the plush of your lips. It escapes only when he lets go of his cock in favor of massaging his wetness across your lips and on your tongue with his thumb. His hard cock is bobbing above you, almost tantalizingly, the occasional drip of arousal landing itself somewhere near your eyes, then your hair, then your mouth, and you watch Logan’s brow furrow as you try to lick whatever you can.

His resolve snaps. A calloused hand squeezes at your cheeks until your jaw falls open. His cock is in your mouth before you can process it, thick and heavy and wet. So. Incredibly. Wet. You start to wonder how it’s even possible that he’s this hard at his age, but you know he wouldn’t want you to be wondering that, so you happily push the thought away.

You suck your cheeks in, swirling your tongue around his tip as you bob your head to meet the subtle, almost imperceivable thrust of his hips. You’re taking it well, you know you are.

He moves back until his cock slips out of your mouth. “I don’t wanna come like this. Wanna fuck you.”

“Yeah, yes. Fuck me. Please.”

He stands up and turns you on your front, your knees pressing into the soft couch cushions with your ass in the air.

“Logan,” You plead as you feel his tip pressing at your entrance.

“I’ve got you,” He says quietly, pushing in until half of his cock is comfortably squeezed by your cunt. Both your breathing is loud and labored, and there’s a specific kind of intimacy in knowing you’re both feeling identical things. Overwhelming and hot and unquenchable by anything other than each other.

His first thrust is shallow, but it ruins you all the same. With how thick he is, it should feel like an intrusion. But all you can think about is how perfectly he fits inside of you.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes. “Look at that.” He traces around your entrance with his thumb. “Stretching so wide to take me.”

You moan, pressing your cheek against the sofa as you rock with his thrusts. He still hasn’t pressed all the way in yet, and you’re growing impatient. “Come on,” You urge, pushing yourself back to force more of his cock into you.

You expect him to chastise you for being so greedy, but he listens to you instead with a slow, full thrust. His tip nudges your cervix with how deep he is, and a ragged moan escapes you. “Yes,” You whine, “Oh god, yes.”

Logan’s breaths are coming out heavy through his nose, quick and occasionally intertwined with a grunt. His thrusts are getting quicker, and it’s starting to burn, but you welcome every sensation he has to offer you. He pulls out, spits on his cock, then shoves himself back inside, and this time you’re both unabashedly moaning the minute you’re joined again. 

His fingers dig in the plush of your ass as he observes himself disappearing into you. It hurts, but you love it. He knows you do, so he spanks you quickly before gripping you and rutting against you again.

“I love when you fuck me,” You whisper, feeling ashamed as soon as the confession leave you. “When you properly fuck me.”

He slows for a moment so he can watch his cock glisten with how wet you are. “I know.” He picks back up his punishing pace.

Your eyes begin to water, from pain or pleasure, you can’t tell. “I love you.”

“I know,” He repeats, this time breathier. His hips stutter. You can tell he’s close.

“I want it on my face,” You tell him quickly, his impending orgasm giving you no time to worry about being too forward.

He pulls out again, letting you turn onto your back as he shifts up your body. He jerks himself furiously, but you swat his hand away and take it upon yourself to stroke him.

“Come for me,” You tell him honestly, softly. His eyes squeeze shut and his lips part around a trembling exhale.

“I’m gonna—” He groans over and over as his release coats your face in long stripes. Some of it even lands in your hair, but you don’t care. Your own fingers work your clit as you stick your tongue out and taste him. Logan bends down to kiss you, chest heaving and hands shaky, and you rub yourself faster, swapping his release between the two of you with a hum. He pulls back so you both can swallow, then he kisses your cheeks with his rough beard, uncaring about the mess on your face.

You don’t know you’re coming until it’s over and you’re breathless, and it’s almost excruciating with how much he’s ruined you, but you’re so exhausted you can’t find it in yourself to dwell on it a second longer.

You wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down for another kiss because you can hardly remember the one he just gave you.

“I’m sorry I had been treating you all wrong,” You say carefully.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” His voice is rough from his orgasm.

You nod, your lips brushing his as you smooth sweaty strands of hair away from his forehead. These touches are hard for him. Any variation of your chaste affection is a reminder that he’s not really Logan anymore.

But the shame in it is gone. Replaced by the reassurance that he can still surround you with safety and firm hands and blatant desire;

And for a moment, he’s his old self again.

A/N: it's been so long since i've written anything, but logan has been consuming my brain for weeks so i had to get this out. i hope it's true to his character. <3 also, my asks are open, so feel free to request anything you want to read about.